Let Me In
by gleekinout
Summary: A year in the life of Rachel Berry, as told through her journal as she tries to put the broken pieces of her life back together. New house, new friends, new family, and maybe even new love. Faberry friendship. Rated M for serious subject matter and Puckleberry lovin'.
1. January 3rd

_January 3rd, 9 pm_

In 1984, Phil Donahue said "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem." No offense to Phil, but that's the most moronic statement ever uttered. He's clearly never been through what I have.

I should rewind a little and introduce myself. My name is Rachel Berry. I'm 18 years old and this past October, I unsuccessfully attempted to take my life. This journal I'm currently writing in, a gift courtesy of my dad, is supposed to help me deal with all of my thoughts and feelings so I don't try to off myself again. At least that's what the hospital shrink said before discharging me home.

I've never been much of a writer. In fact, I hate writing. I'm an artistic person, but I prefer to use dance as a medium to express that creativeness, not a pen and paper. But, if the good head doctor thinks this is going to help me "deal with all the traumas in my life" (his words, not mine), I guess I can give it a shot.

You must be wondering about me. Who am I, where do I come from, what makes a perfectly healthy 18-year-old put a razor blade to her wrists and try to send herself to the big sleep. Well, you would if you were alive and not a lifeless book of dead trees.

I'm the offspring of two people who should never have hooked up in the first place. My dad, Issac Berry, always wanted more than a small town life. He wanted to move out of Whitefish, the small Montana town where he grew up, and make it big in the city. Unfortunately, he impregnated my mother before he even had a high school diploma.

Emma, my mother, was more than happy staying in Whitefish. Her family had lived there for generations, and she wasn't about to be the first one to leave. They had a shotgun wedding after Emma found out she was knocked up, so Dad and Emma lived together long enough for me to be born. After that, Dad started making plans to move to the East coast, while Emma made plans to leave him.

In the end, Dad took me and we moved to Miami, Florida before I was even a year old. Emma gave him full custody and a divorce.

Dad ended up in college before moving on to law school, raising me by himself the whole time. I had just turned eight when he got his first job as a lawyer at a firm on Miami Beach. It was just the two of us, and life was perfect.

Emma would call once or twice a year to say hi and wish me happy birthday, but I never had a relationship with her. Nor did I want one. This was the woman who gave me up so she could have the life she wanted. She never made sacrifices the way my dad did. She didn't put her dating life on hold while I grew up. She never saw one dance recital or school play, while Dad made sure he was out of the office on time to see every one of them.

When I was twelve, my Aunt April moved in with me and my dad, her husband having just died in a car accident. So, after that, it went from the two of us to the three of us.

It couldn't have been better. Aunt April was the female influence I needed in my life. She helped me with makeup, clothes, and boy problems (not that I had any of those). She took me to dance class while Dad was working, and showed me how to cook without burning the house down. She took me to get my nails done every month, and promised not to tell my dad when I rebelled and got my bellybutton secretly pierced.

Dad and Aunt April were so proud when I got into Julliard's dance program, and they started making plans to move up to New York once I was in school. In fact, they had the house on the market when the incident happened the weekend before Halloween.

After the incident, I stole my roommates razor and slit my wrists, earning myself a long stay in the hospital and daily visits from the hospital's resident shrink. After he decided I wasn't a complete headcase and it was safe to let me rejoin society, I quit school and moved back home.

But I wasn't really living. I spent all day on the couch watching TV. By Thanksgiving, I had seen every episode of _Say Yes to the Dress,_ both the New York and Atlanta versions. I stopped dancing, and started gaining some weight. I stopped talking to all my friends, and they eventually stopped calling.

Finally, my dad had enough.

"Rachel, that's it," he said one day in December.

"What's it, Dad?"

"I can't take this anymore. You need help, more help than I can give you. I called your mother last night, and we both agreed it would be best if you spent some time with her in Montana."

I looked up at him, my face expressionless. "You're kicking me out?"

"No, I'm trying to help you. I've tried and tried, but nothing I do seems to be working. Your mom and Will have an extra bedroom at their house. She said she'd love to have you move in with them."

"For how long?" I asked.

"That's up to them."

"Don't you want me here, Dad?"

"Of course I do, baby. I wouldn't be doing this unless I thought it was necessary. Your mom's even looking for a therapist for you to see."

"Why? It's pointless. Nothing they say helps me."

"Well, if you did what they asked you to do, it might help. Like that doctor from the hospital. He said you should keep a diary or a journal. Here." He handed me the blue journal I'm currently writing in. "It won't hurt to try. Now, your aunt and I are going to bring you out there right after the holidays. We'll call every day, I promise."

So that is how I ended up in a tiny room in Whitefish, Montana. I've been here almost 24 hours now, and I hate it. Emma (I refuse to call her mom) and her new husband, Will, greeted me at Glacier Park International Airport in a gray pickup truck. They loaded my things in the back and took the 20 minute drive back to their house.

Waiting in the kitchen was Jesse, Will's son from his first marriage. I'd only met him once when I was six at their wedding, and I honestly didn't remember anything about him. Emma said he was going to be my transportation for now since apparently they don't trust me enough to get behind the wheel of a car.

They also don't trust me enough to be alone. My room has no door and Emma always waits outside when I'm in the bathroom. Prison would be better than living here.

Tomorrow they're taking me to see my new shrink, and then after that I'm being forced to attend a support group for fucked up kids like me. Emma is hoping I make some friends or something to keep me from trying to hang myself in my closet.

Jesse just stopped in my room reminding me we have to leave early to drive the half hour it'll take to get to my doctor's office in Kalispell. I guess I should wrap things up for now. Gotta be on my A game to meet the new head shrink.

Well, this first experiment writing wasn't a complete bust, so I guess I'll continue it tomorrow. Assuming I don't jump out of my window tonight, of course. I don't think I will. I want to make it through tomorrow, at least.

That way, I can prove Emma wrong when I come home without any new friends.


	2. January 4th

_January 4th, 2 pm_

I'm used to my room facing the East and being awoken by the sun shining in through the windows. I always look outside and see the palm trees swaying as a slight breeze cuts through the humid Miami air.

This morning I woke up just after eight to an alarm. When I sat up and looked out of the small window in my new room, I didn't see a single ray of sunshine nor a swaying palm tree. Instead, the entire yard of Emma and Will's yard was covered in cold, icy snow.

I have a confession: I've never seen snow before. Well, unless it's on TV. We never get snow in Miami, and every time Dad and I would travel up north, it would be during the summer. My experience with snow is through the movies. When it snows, kids never have to go to school. They use snow to make snowmen that come to life or throw balls of snow at one another. I remember watching an episode of _Spongebob Squarepants_ where it snowed and Spongebob and Patrick kept throwing snowballs that would put out Squidward's fire.

I always wanted snow when I was little, mainly so I wouldn't have to go to school. I used to go to bed every night before a test and wish for a snow day. Of course, that never happened until today.

I don't have any winter clothes. I don't have a winter jacket or long sleeves or even a pair of boots. I have a light jacket I wore in the city during October, as well as a few pairs of jeans, but nothing more than that.

I'm going to freeze.

When I headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, Will had already left for work. He teaches English at Whitefish High School, as well as coaches their baseball team in the spring. Emma was on her way out the door to her job as a secretary at the pediatrician's office. That left me and Jesse in the kitchen for another twenty minutes until we left for Kalispell.

"There's milk in the fridge if you want some cereal or whatever," Jesse said, never bothering to look up from his cellphone. I know it's bad, but I don't even know how old Jesse is now, nor what he does during the day while Emma and Will are at work.

"Thanks," I muttered, pouring myself a bowl of cheerios with a little bit of milk. I sat down at the table, silently eating my sad excuse for a breakfast, trying to figure out what I was going to do to occupy my time when I wasn't busy with therapy or the worthless support group.

I was sure there was at least one dance studio here in Whitefish. Too bad I stopped dancing months ago.

There was a crate of books in my room Dad and Aunt April had mailed to Emma's house before I moved in. I guess they hoped I would have something to entertain myself with, since there's nothing to do in Whitefish besides hiking and camping, and I'm not exactly an outdoors type of girl. I've never been much of a reader, choosing to spend my free time in a leotard practicing exercises at the barre as opposed to getting lost in a fictional world, but I suppose it's never too late to try.

Eventually, Jesse broke the silence, telling me we had to leave or we'd never make to Kalispell on time. I took a glance out the window, then down at myself. I was wearing a short sleeved polka dot blouse and skinny jeans with a pair of black flats. I was going to freeze.

Jesse seemed to read my mind, because he tossed me a black parka with a fur collar. "Here. My dad got this for you so you wouldn't freeze to death. Emma said she'd take you shopping this weekend for a pair of boots and some warmer clothes. Now come on, we need to go."

I followed him outside, pulling my new jacket on. It wasn't exactly stylish, but it was warm. I guess that's all that really matters in a town like this. Jesse lead me out to his car, an old Ford pickup truck. Apparently, everyone in Montana drives one.

The drive to Kalispell was quiet. Jesse had the radio on and was listening to some rock station while I just stared out the window, watching cars drive past us in the other direction. Jesse was a few years older than me, making me wonder what he was doing with his life. he obviously wasn't working since he spent all day driving me around, so maybe he was living at home until he found some kind of job. I wondered if he even went to college.

Eventually, we parked at a small medical complex and I climbed out.

"Hey, I got a friend who lives a few minutes from here. Just call me when you're done and I'll pick you up, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Jesse drove off, leaving me all on my own.

I followed the signs inside to the office of Dr. Susan Sylvester, psychiatrist. I checked in at the desk, and they told me it would be a few minutes as she was finishing with another patient. Thankfully, I'd grabbed one of the books my dad had sent me.

I pulled out a very worn copy of _Oliver Twist_ and began reading, getting through a few pages before the receptionist called my name. I marked my spot before shoving the book back in my bag, following her back into an office. There were lots of impressive looking books on the shelves behind a desk. I took a seat in a comfy chair to the side, waiting for the doctor to come in.

Eventually, she did. She was a tall woman with short blonde hair dressed in a black suit. "Ah, you must be Rachel," she said, taking my hand. I looked at her, trying to form an opinion. I didn't want to be here, and her friendliness seemed fake.

Verdict: I hated her.

"You can call em Dr. Sue," she continued, taking a seat behind the desk.

Dr. Sue spent an hour asking me about everything in my life. She wanted to know about friends, family, school, boyfriends. Luckily, I didn't have much to tell her about the last one as I'd never dated. She asked me about my sexual experience (none), and what I liked to do for fun (nothing). I could tell she was getting frustrated with me since I kept giving her one worded answers. Finally, after going through everything in my life, Dr. Sue asked me about my suicide.

I didn't say anything.

I had nothing to say. I couldn't even talk to myself about it, let alone someone I had just met. So instead of telling the good doctor this, I clammed up. I stared at my hands as I tried to ignore her penetrating gaze.

"Rachel," she said. "I can't help you unless you talk to me."

If my life were a movie, there would have been crickets chirping to interrupt the deafening silence that filled the room.

I'm comfortable addressing my suicide attempt, to myself at least. But what led me to it? No. I can't even tell a book of paper what happened, and I don't know if I ever will be. Some things are better left unsaid.

I spent the rest of the session in silence while Dr. Sue tried different ways to get me to open up to her. She tried changing the subject, but I was over therapy by that point. Instead, I just watched the clock tick until it was time for me to go. Apparently, I annoyed Dr. Sue with my silence and she gave me homework, something I didn't realize she could do. I'm now supposed to write about all my dreams and give it to her in our next session. She's crazy if she thinks I'm going to tell her anything real about my dreams. I'll just have to make something up.

Besides, I don't have normal dreams anymore. I have nightmares, every night. And I don't need a shrink to tell me what they mean.

After leaving the office, I decide to walk around a bit, not ready to call Jesse to pick me up. Besides, I need to make up a session with Dr. Sue that doesn't have me sitting in silence for the majority of the time. Emma and Will would not be happy about that, and neither would my dad.

I looked down at my phone, checking the time. I was supposed to go to that stupid support group at 2:30, so I had plenty of time before we were supposed to leave, and this was the first time I was completely alone since getting off the plane here in Montana.

I walked down the main road in Kalispell, glancing around. There didn't appear to be a lot of shopping, but there was a McDonald's up ahead, and I was craving french fries. I ended up sitting there for awhile, reading my book and casually checking the time. The girl behind the counter kept eyeing me suspiciously, but it's not like I was doing anything to bother her.

Eventually, I decided it was probably time to call Jesse and have him pick me up. Otherwise I'd miss the first session of my support group, and there was no way Emma was going to give me back my door if I did that.

I found Jesse's number in my cell (something my dad insisted I have so he could reach me whenever he needed to) and called him, waiting for him to pick up.

"Yo, Rach. You done?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am. I'm at the McDonald's just down the road from the office, if you want to pick me up from there. We can just go right to my support group from there."

"Cool, sounds good. I'll be there in a few."

I hung up the phone without another word and slid it back into my bag, shivering slightly where I stood. The coat may have been warm, but that didn't help the fact that I was in short sleeves underneath it. I definitely needed a new and warmer wardrobe.

Finally, Jesse's truck rolled up right to where I was standing and I climbed in. He gave me a look before pulling out of the parking lot and heading back towards Whitefish. "So, how was the doc?" he asked. I shrugged my shoulders in response. "Yeah, I know what you mean. She used to be the guidance counselor at the high school and I was always getting sent to her for fighting and shit. She's a hard ass."

I covered my mouth as I laughed a little. "Yeah, she was annoying," I agreed. "She kept asking me questions about stuff I didn't want to talk about."

Jesse gave me a look. "And you volunteered all the information she wanted to know, did you?"

I sighed. "Okay fine! I didn't tell her anything. She kept prying and saying I had to talk to her if I wanted her to help me, but I just stared at the clock. I don't know if I really want her to help me. And, can you not tell Emma and Will that, please? She'll never let me do anything by myself if she think I'm not trying."

Jesse let out a loud laugh. "You call your mom Emma?"

"She may have given birth to me, but that doesn't make her my mom," I said stiffly. "She's going to have to do more than letting me move in with her to gain that title back."

Jesse nodded. "Fair enough," he agreed. "Okay, I'll play along with your attempts to fool Emma and my dad about your recovery. I even promise not to say anything about your delayed call in getting me to pick you up. I flushed at that. "You just have to do something for me."

"What's that?"

"Don't kill yourself in my house."

I smiled a little at him. "I think I can do that much. So, where is this support group and how do you know about it?"

"It's at the Christ Lutheran Church right off of 93. My buddy from high school, Artie, runs the group. He started it a little over a year ago after he got out of the hospital after being paralyzed in a car accident. I guess it was his way to cope with what happened to him. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it at group."

"Who else goes?"

Jesse shrugged. "No idea. I've never been, and I doubt most people who go are gonna advertise it around town. People talk in a small town like this. Like with you."

"What about me?" I asked.

"Well, everyone's been talking about you coming back here. Emma's been talking about you to everyone. No one knows what happened, of course, but they've all been talking about the big city girl moving back home."

I snorted a little. "Montana has never been my home. I don't remember living here. Miami's my home, and I plan on moving back as soon as I'm better."

"Well, you could at least try to like it here, you know," Jesse said, pulling into the church parking lot. "I'm going to head over to my friend's place while you're here. Just call me when you're ready to head home, okay? Just make sure it's before six. That's when Emma gets home, and she'll kill me if we're still out. Have fun, Rach."

I climbed out of his truck and sat on a bench outside the church, busy writing away in this book. I was skeptical about this actually being beneficial, but it does seem to help to get my thoughts down on paper. It's like having a friend who listens and never interrupts.

A few people have walked past me and given me a curious look, but I've just been ignoring them.

Oh, I guess it's time to head in. I know I'm already the new girl, so I don't need to walk in late on top of being the new girl. Wish me luck!

* * *

 _January 4th, 10:30 pm_

You're going to think I'm crazy and that I've lost my mind, but group is actually kind of awesome.

Now hear me out. I went in with expectations so low, they were buried under ground. I knew there was no way I would make any friends or even enjoy myself. I was only attending because Emma and my dad were making me.

I walked into the main room of the church where there was a circle of folding chairs, half of them occupied. Against the back wall was a table with stale donuts and bad coffee, just likes the movies.

There were two guys standing together chatting about something, and I made a mental note to sit as far away from them as I possibly could. I noticed a girl with short blonde hair sitting alone, her eyes never leaving the book in her hands. I decided she would be safe to sit next to for now.

I quietly walked over and took a seat beside her, not saying a word. I pulled my copy of _Oliver Twist_ out of my bag, flipping back to where I left off and allowing myself to become engrossed in 19th century London. I made it through a quarter of the chapter I was reading before the doors shut loudly and all talking stopped.

I stowed my book back in my bag, shoving it under my seat. A young guy in a wheelchair was rolling into the room. That had to have been the Artie Jesse was talking about.

"Hey guys," he greeted, wheeling into the area of the circle where a folding chair was missing. "Sorry I'm a little late. I got held up at work. I see a few new faces," he said, his eyes lingering on me for a moment. "So let me introduce myself quickly. I'm Artie Abrams, and I created this support group two years ago. I was in a car accident, and as a result of that, lost all feeling and use of the lower half of my body. I was in a bad place, and I was sick of being alive. Thankfully, I was unsuccessful in my attempt because I'm still here today. After I got lots of help, I decided I wanted to help other people. So I made this group for everyone else who was in that position that I was in.

"Now, first I'll let our newcomers introduce themselves, and then we'll dive right back into where we were last time. Sound good?" The group murmured in agreement, and Artie turned his attention towards me. "So, our two new girls happen to be sitting right next to one another, which makes things a little easier. Why don't you guys introduce yourselves, tell us a little about yourselves and why you decided to join our group here."

The girl next to me stood up, looking around the group. "Uh, I'm Brittany. Brittany Pierce. I'm here because, well, I had nowhere else to go. A few months ago, I had everything I wanted. I was living in the city of my dreams, I had a great job, and I was preparing to get married to a wonderful man. Then, my grandmother got sick so I flew back here to stay with her for a few weeks. While I was here, I started feeling...off. I thought it was just the flu. When I returned home, everything changed.

"My fiancee dumped me and told me he'd been having an affair with one of coworkers who also happened to be my best friend. I lost my job after my former best friend told a bunch of lies about me to my boss. I lost my apartment because I couldn't pay for it. And then, finally, after getting tested due to my ex cheating on me, I found out I was HIV positive. After that, I couldn't get a new job. I moved in with my grandma until she passed a month ago. She left me her house since the rest of my family disowned me. I've hit rock bottom, and I have nowhere else to turn to."

She sat down, raising a hand up to wipe a few tears from her eyes.

"Thank you for sharing that, Brittany. Here, we don't judge. You're among friends here." Everyone in the circle nodded in agreement. Artie turned his attention to me. "And you?"

I stood up, still trying to figure out something to say. "Uh, I'm Rachel Berry. I'm originally from here, but my parents split up when I was a baby, and my dad moved me and him to Miami. I was a dancer, or training to become one, at least. I moved to New York City and was attending Julliard, which was my dream. Then, uh, I tried to kill myself. I didn't succeed. I dropped out of school and my dad had me committed to a psych facility for a bit.

"He moved me back home for awhile, but he said I wasn't doing anything to help myself, so he sent me here to live with my birth mother. She and her husband took away my door, won't let me drive, and they're making me come here. So yeah, that's me."

Artie laughed a little. "You know, some of us didn't want to come here at first, but everyone keeps coming back. We're happy to have you, Rachel. And, when you're ready to share your whole story, we'll listen. Remember, we don't judge here.

"Okay, so last time we were talking about forgiveness. Mike, I think we left off with you."

Everyone turned to look as an Asian guy who appeared to be in his early 20's started talking. "Yeah. I had a lot of anger for a long time at a lot of people. My aunt, for molesting me as a kid. My ex, for introducing me to cocaine and turning me into a junkie. My dad, for killing my mom and himself in front of me when I was just a kid. My sister, for kicking me out after my ex dumped me. I hit rock bottom for awhile, but it wasn't until I OD'd that I realized what a mess my life had become.

"I got clean with the help of my cousin. He got me in rehab and set me up with a therapist. I moved out of the city and in with him here in Whitefish. I started letting go of all my anger and tried forgiving everyone who I felt wronged me. And lastly, I started taking some fucking responsibility. Sure, Tina introduced me to cocaine, but I was the one who made the choice to do it day after day. I was a mess when I was using, and my sister didn't want that around her kids.

"By forgiving everyone, I was able to finally forgive myself. Now, I'm not claiming to be healthy by any means. I think about using every day, sometimes just to end the pain I feel knowing I'm all alone with no one there for me. But I'm finally starting to move on with my life, rebuild myself."

"Thank you for that, Mike. Anyone else?"

A guy who looked to be about the same age as Mike stuck his hand up in the air. He had a gentle face and a soft smile. His dark hair was a bit messy and hung in his face a little. Six months ago, I would have been all over him.

"Ah, Puck. Nice to see you finally contributing."

The guy named Puck made a face at Artie. "Yeah, whatever. Well, I think this whole forgiveness crap is a bunch of bullshit. Jake and Marley took the cowards way out. What they did was selfish. I don't think I'll ever forgive them for what they did."

I felt my face flush at his words. Cowards way out? Selfish? I wondered if that was how my dad and Aunt April saw me. Maybe that was why they sent me away.

The talk continued about forgiveness with lots of the group contributing. Eventually, Artie called the meeting to a close, saying we would meet again on Saturday. He said next time we were going to talk about joy. I doubted I would have anything to say then.

I stood up, pulling my coat on over my lightweight blouse and grabbing my bag from underneath my chair. I left my phone in my bag, not ready to head home. Jesse said we just needed to be back by six, giving me plenty of time to have a little freedom.

I walked out of the main room of the church and headed outside, scowling as I look up towards the sky. It had started snowing, as if there wasn't already enough of the white stuff on the ground. I reached a hand up, brushing a few flakes out of my hair before they had the chance to melt. Well, there went my exploration time. I thought about searching for a library or somewhere to stay until I was ready to go home. Even a small town like Whitefish had to have a public library.

I considered calling Jesse to ask him, but then figured he'd never been to a library in his entire life. Emma and Will were out, as they still weren't willing to let me sit in my room without supervision.

"Yo, new girl." A deep voice interrupted my internal conflict and I looked up, my eyes falling on two of the guys from the support group. The Asian one's name I remembered as being Mike, but the other guy I couldn't recall. For some reason, when I looked at him, I felt myself sweating a little under the collar. I attributed it to anxiety. After all, I wasn't the type of girl random guys approached.

Except for one time.

"Rebecca, right?"

I sighed a little and shook my head. "Rachel," I corrected.

"Shit, right. Rachel. From Miami," he said in an attempt to prove he'd been paying attention while I'd been speaking. "I'm Mike, and this asshole's Puck. He," he said, elbowing his friend in the side, "wanted to apologize for what he said back in there. He didn't mean to offend you."

"What makes you think I got offended?" I asked.

"You turned bright red, duh," the one named Puck said with a roll of his eyes.

"Anyways, we wanted to make it up to you. We're having a party tonight and it's be cool if you wanted to come," Mike continued, ignoring his friends.

My palms started sweating at the thought of going to a party. I'd been to exactly one party during my time at Julliard, and I had no plans to repeat the experience. "Thanks, but I don't go to parties," I said, my voice clipped.

"Told you she wouldn't come. She thinks she's _better_ than us," Puck sneered.

My face grew hot at his words. "Excuse me?"

"You're a city girl. Miss Miami, Miss New York City. You're only here because someone's making you, not because you want to help yourself. You think you're better than the rest of us headcases. Newsflash honey-you're not."

Mike gave him a horrified look, but I turned on my heel and started walking away from them, my face on fire.

"Come back to us when you want to fit in!" Puck called after me. I stomped away, refusing to call Jesse to come pick me up now. I'd walk around in the snow for hours if I had to. I didn't understand what was wrong with him. Why was he being so mean to someone he didn't even know?

"Hey. Hey! Miami!" someone called. I turned around and saw a girl with short blonde hair running after me. When she reached me, she took my arm and started walking with me in the direction I'd been going. "Ignore him, he's a jerk. Has been ever since he started coming to group. I'm Quinn," she said, all in one breath.

"Um, Rachel," I stuttered, not quite sure what to make of the girl who had just invaded my personal space and decided she was new best friend.

"Rachel. Love that name. I was a huge _Friends_ fan and she was totally my favorite character," she said, her mouth moving at a mile a minute. I didn't understand how someone could think that fast, let alone speak that fast. "Well, like I said, ignore Puck. He's a grade A douchebag who's prone to throwing hissy fits. It's better if you just hang out with me instead."

I gaped at her, not even sure how to respond. She was so intimidating yet so welcoming at the same time. I didn't know how that was even possible. I was still trying to force my brain to work when I saw Quinn was leading us to an ancient pickup truck. She pulled open the passenger's side door, gesturing toward it.

Without giving myself a second to think, I climbed in.

Quinn danced to the other side of the car and hopped in, the car roaring to life as soon as her door closed. "So Rachel, do you like coffee?"

I watched her the whole time she was driving to the local coffee shop. I didn't understand how someone like her could possibly need a support group for people who were depressed and suicidal. She was so... _happy._ And her happiness was contagious. Just being around her for these few minutes, I felt a warmth in myself I hadn't felt since before my whole life changed.

Quinn wanted to know all about me. How old I was, who my mom was, how I liked living here. When I couldn't give her a believable answer to that question, she thought for a moment and asked how much I missed Miami instead.

Once we made it to the coffee shop and were seated inside and away from the snow, her questions didn't stop. She wanted to know _everything_ about me, especially what it was like living in the big city. Quinn admitted she'd never been out of Montana, that she'd never even considered moving away. She'd grown up in Whitefish, and she'd probably die here, too.

When she took a break from her incessant questioning to take a sip of coffee, I seized my moment. "Quinn," I said, my voice cautious. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" she gushed.

"You seem so...happy. Me? I'm pretty fucked up." I turned my wrist slightly, flashing her the scar that was prominently there. She didn't even flinch. "I clearly need help, which is why I'm being forced to attend this group. But you...I just don't get why you're going."

Quinn didn't even pause to think, like she'd been expecting my question all along. "Oh, that's an easy question. I need it to keep me sane." I gave her a confused look. "I should explain, you look confused," she teased. "I have post traumatic stress disorder. I know it seems weird, since I'm not a soldier or something like that. It's a little complicated, and I don't want to ruin our awesome day. I'll tell you about it another day. But basically, Artie has helped me cope with it, better than any shrink ever did," she said, rolling her eyes. "I used to get panic attacks all the time. Now I rarely get them. Plus, everyone there is super nice. They're my friends.

"Seriously, don't mind Puck. He really is a nice guy when he wants to be. Once you get to know him, you'll love him."

"I don't want to get to know him," I grumbled, causing Quinn to laugh.

"Just give him time," she encouraged again before looking down at her phone. "What time did you say your folks were going to be home at?" she asked.

"Uh, six. Why?"

"Because it's almost six," she said, holding up her phone. "Let me give you a ride."

I shook my head. "No, that would raise more questions. I'll just give my step-brother a call. He's the one supposed to be picking me up."

"And you think he's going to believe you've been at support group this whole time?" she asked skeptically.

"No, he knows I'm out wandering around on my own. But, if Emma or Will is already home, they'll be wondering why I wasn't with Jesse. And then I'll probably lose phone privileges or something."

"Yeah, that would be bad. How would you be able to text me without a phone?" she asked before taking my phone out of my hand, programming her number into it. "As if I'm going to wait until the next support group to talk to you." She gave me a look. "It's cool, call your bro. We'll do something tomorrow. You're allowed to go out, right?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "No idea. I'll have to ask the warden," I said as I texted Jesse where to pick me up.

"Well, you should. We could head over to Kalispell and hit the mall. No offense, but you need better shoes," she said, glancing down at my shoes.

"Hey, I came from Miami," I reminded her.

"And maybe after we could hit up the mountain and go tubing. Or just find a hill and go sledding," she gushed, leading me outside where we were going to wait for Jesse to pick me up. She kept babbling on about what we could do if Emma granted me permission to go out with someone who wasn't Jesse. I didn't think she was ever going to stop talking when Jesse pulled up and she went silent, letting out a small squeak. "Oh, that must be your brother," she said, her voice a full octave higher. "Text me later about tomorrow," she said before quickly running to her car.

I stared after her for a moment before climbing into Jesse's front seat, buckling my seat belt.

Jesse seemed a little distracted as he drove home. I shook it off until her pulled into the driveway and turned to face me. "So...how do you know Quinn Fabray?" he finally asked, turning the car off.

"Oh," I said, a little taken aback. "I met her at my group. She came over and started talking to me. She's nice." I paused for a minute. "How do _you_ know her?"

"We went to school together. She was two years below me and had the biggest crush on me." He paused, and all of Quinn's behavior when Jesse showed up finally made sense. "She's weird. She was way cool her freshman year, but then the next year, she was blowing off class and hanging out with people who were known junkies. She ended up disappearing that January. There were rumors she went to rehab, but I never saw her again until today. Guess it makes sense she's going to a group for headcases. Sorry," he said, taking in my expression.

I walked inside without another word to him.

Emma was thrilled when I told her I made a friend and gladly gave me permission to hang out with her the next day, granted Quinn picked me up since she still didn't want me driving. I texted Quinn after dinner to tell her the good news. She was super excited and spent the rest of the evening texting me her plans for tomorrow while I spent it on my bed, writing in here to chronicle my day.

Jesse stopped by my room to tell me he didn't really think I was a headcase, and I forgave him. After all, I was kind of a headcase.

Well, it's late. Quinn wants to spend all day together, so I should probably get some sleep. Night!


	3. January 8th

_January 8th, 10 pm_

Whitefish is, shockingly, not turning out to be as awful as I imagined it. Quinn Fabray has helped a lot in changing my opinion of it, of course. She's called me every day since we met at group and we've hung out almost as much. Saturday we drove to Kalispell to turn my Miami wardrobe into a Montana wardrobe.

Thankfully, after a few frantic calls and texts to my dad and Aunt April, I was gifted with a large deposit in my bank account to fund my "winter wonderland attire", as Quinn phrased it.

We spent most of the day at the mall trying on outfit after outfit. I ended up with several pairs of jeans and slacks, as well as armfuls of sweaters and long-sleeved blouses. We found a nice coat that wasn't a parka for days when the ground wasn't covered in snow. We ended the shopping trip by spending almost two hours trying on shoes since apparently flats were unacceptable in the dead of winter. I found a great pair of snow boots, as well as a few other pairs of shoes I could wear when I was indoors.

I ended up treating Quinn to lunch since she'd given me a ride to Kalispell and refused to accept any gas money from me.

I started scrolling through my missed calls and messages as Quinn started the drive back to Whitefish. My dad had called me, then sent me an email telling me to call him that night when I had time. I had a call and an email from Emma, inviting Quinn to dinner, and a text from a number I didn't recognize. I left that one unread, locking my phone and putting it back in my bag.

"So, Emma wants you to come to dinner at her house tonight," I said to Quinn as we turned onto my street. "I guess she wants to meet you after allowing me to spend all day with you. You know, to make sure you're not a complete nut job or anything," I joked, letting out a small laugh.

"I'd love to!" she said, her voice high. "It'll be a nice break not spending dinner with my sister and her monster kids," she added, her mouth moving a mile a minute. She continued talking about what it was like crashing with her sister, her sister's husband, and their two children she christened Demon #1 and Demon #2.

We arrived back at the small house, and the two of us climbed out of Quinn's truck. Quinn helped me carry all of my new clothes inside and we headed upstairs, not seeing anyone else on our way up. I figured they were all busy around the house, plus it wasn't like I wanted to spend any extra time with any of them.

Quinn and I spent the rest of the afternoon putting all my new clothes away.

"So, you weren't kidding," she said, hanging up a new dress I'd found.

"About what?" I asked, gathering up all the empty bags lying on my bed.

"About the no door thing," she said, nodding towards the empty archway at the entrance in my room. "Your mom must be super worried about you or something."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Yeah, she's _super_ worried," I said sarcastically, shoving the empty bags into the tiny waste bin sitting in the corner of my room. "The only reason I have that," I said, gesturing to the ancient computer sitting on my desk, "was so my dad and I can video chat."

"So, that means you can get on Facebook too, right?" Quinn asked eagerly.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Emma never said anything about it, but it's a moot point, really. I deactivated my Facebook months ago."

"Why?"

"It's a long story," I said, stifling a yawn.

"I've got time," Quinn said, taking a seat on my bed. "I'm sure your mom won't have dinner ready for at least another hour."

Okay, truth time. I deactivated my Facebook after I attempted to take my life. It was my decision and no one else's. I was getting messages from people I wanted out of my life and it was the only way I could think of to get them to stop. I don't really miss it that much, though it would be nice to be able to talk to everyone from college.

If I told Quinn exactly why I left Facebook, that would involve me going into everything that happened back in New York that led to my stay in the loony bin. I liked Quinn and everything, but I wasn't ready to let her in on all my deep, dark secrets. So I figured the best answer was a straight up lie.

"I just didn't use Facebook that much anymore," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. "I guess it's really not that long of a story."

Quinn pursed her lips, obviously not believing my story. However, before she had a chance to call me out on it, there were a few knocks at my door frame as Jesse poked his head in.

"Hey Rach, your mom sent me up to let you know dinner will be ready in a few, so you should head down."

I rolled my eyes at him before glancing over at Quinn to tell her we should head downstairs, but she didn't seem to be paying attention to me at all. Her normally pale face was now flush with color and her blue eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates. She was staring at Jesse as she tried desperately to fix her hair and smooth the wrinkles out of her blouse.

Jesse hadn't appeared to even notice Quinn, turning and heading back to the kitchen after delivering Emma's message. I thought back to what Jesse had said before about Quinn having a crush on him back in high school. Maybe she still had a thing for him. If that was the case, I wasn't about to ask her about it where Jesse could easily overhear her.

Instead, I decided to change the subject. "Well, we should probably head down before Emma herself comes up and drags us down to the table." We walked through the doorway of my room and started heading down the stairs towards the kitchen.

"I still think it's weird that you call your mom by her first name," Quinn said, her voice an octave higher than it normally was.

"I told you," I said as we reached the first floor of the small house I currently lived in. "She may have given birth to me, but that doesn't make her my mom." I kept my voice low, not wanting Emma to overhear what I was saying about her.

"Still, it's weird."

We headed into the kitchen where Emma appeared to be putting the final touches on whatever it was she had cooked for dinner. Will and Jesse were seated at the table, Will finishing off a beer while Jesse ignored him, his attention occupied by something on his phone.

I was still adjusting to living with Emma and her small family. I'd been here a bit over a week and the four of us were still trying to get into a routine. The first night I had dinner with the family was also the night they found out I was a vegan. That made it a bit difficult to eat the bacon cheeseburgers they'd made for dinner. Emma had started making an effort, however, and would usually text me to ask what I wanted her to make me for dinner. Typically, she made me something different from everyone else since none of the rest of them wanted to eat vegan like I did.

"Rachel, I made pasta for dinner. I made meatballs for everyone else but made sure they were separate from the noodles and sauce. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah, that's fine," I said, pulling a chair out from the table and taking a seat. Quinn took a seat at the chair next to mine, stealing furtive glances over at Jesse, who didn't seem to even notice she had joined the table.

"Jesse, phones away at the table. You know the rule," Emma said as she set a bowl of broccoli on the table. Will finished up the bottle he was drinking, setting it to the side as he opened a second one.

"I'm not a kid, you can't tell me what to do," Jesse muttered, shoving his phone into the pocket of his very worn jeans.

"Well, then find your own apartment. Then you can have your phone out at the table all you want," Emma replied shortly, heading back into the kitchen to bring out the rest of the dinner. Jesse made a face at her behind her back, causing Quinn to cover her mouth as she giggled. Jesse glanced over at her, giving her a small smile.

"So Quinn," Will said, scooping a pile of broccoli onto his plate, "It's nice to finally meet you. We've heard a little about you from Rachel over the past few days. So, you live here in Whitefish, correct?"

Quinn nodded her head as Emma brought the rest of the food out to the table, taking a seat beside Will. "Yeah, I've lived here my whole life."

"So you must have gone to school with Jesse," Emma interrupted, setting a glass of water down in front of Quinn.

"Thank you," she said, her cheeks turning pink. "I don't really remember him much. I was a few years below him, after all. I doubt we ever exchanged two words with one another."

"Uh, so do you have any family here or are you all by yourself?" Will said quickly, trying to change the subject. I glanced over at him and gave him an appreciative smile. Will's starting to grow on me a bit.

"Well, my parents moved to Missoula last year. I stayed here, so I live with my sister and her husband. I just can't imagine ever leaving Whitefish. I've lived here my whole life." She shrugged her shoulders. "Plus all my great friends like Rachel live here, and my life would suck without them in it."

Jesse snorted into his food, earning a dirty look from both me and Emma. Quinn's cheeks turned red again, and she stared down at her plate, falling silent.

Dinner was pretty uneventful with Quinn answering Emma and Will's questions quietly and Jesse ignoring everyone. After everyone had finished, Jesse headed up to his room without a word to anyone and Quinn stated she needed to head home.

"Well, it was lovely having you over," Emma said, giving my one friend a warm smile. "You'll have to come back soon."

"I'd be delighted to, Mrs. Schuester," Quinn said politely, rising to her feet.

"Here, I'll walk you out," I said, pulling my boots on and grabbing my coat. Quinn waved to Emma and Will before grabbing her bag and heading outside. I followed behind her, the cold sending a shiver through my body.

"Sorry about that," I said, walking beside her as we headed down the driveway toward her car. "You're the first person I've ever introduced to Emma, so I guess she was trying to be a good mom or something," I said with a shrug.

"Hey, it's cool. It's not like she was asking me for my bank account number or credit report," she said with a laugh. We reached her truck and she fished her keys out of her purse, unlocking the doors. "So, you need a ride Tuesday?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No, Will has a doctor's appointment in the morning, so he said he'd give me a ride there. Thanks, though."

She leaned against her truck, looking at me. "I have a favor to ask of you."

I arched my eyebrow at her. "Oh?"

"Two of the guys from group have a party every week. You know, just people from group hanging out, eating food, and watching movies or playing video games. They're having one Friday after group, and I think you should come. I'm the only one you really know, and it wouldn't hurt to make some other friends."

I stayed silent, thinking it over for a few seconds. In high school, I was never the type of person who got invited to parties. I didn't have many friends, so a "party" would be my only two friends coming over to watch a movie and eat some candy. When I was at college, I got invited to one party and I made the mistake of attending it. Something bad happened, and it takes all my self control to keep the images out of my mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I finally said, trying to smile. "I men, I'm not really a party person."

"Oh, come on, Rach," Quinn whined. "It'll be fun. Nothing bad's going to happen, there's not even going to be any alcohol there. Think about it at least?" she suggested.

I let out a sigh. "Okay okay, I'll think about it."

"Yay!" Quinn squealed, giving me a hug. "I'll text you later!" she said, giving me one more hug before climbing into her truck.

I waved at her as she pulled away from the house. I stood outside for a few seconds as her truck disappeared from view before heading back inside into the warmth. I pulled my coat and boots off, leaving them by the door. I poked my head into the living room, saying goodnight to Will and Emma, then headed upstairs to my room.

I pulled my phone out, deciding to give my dad a call. I hadn't spoken to him in a few days, after all. I heard the dial tone for a few seconds as the phone rang, then there was a click and a deep, warm voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hi Daddy," I said quietly, sitting with my legs crossed on my bed.

"Wow, it is so great to hear your voice," he said, laughing on the other end. "I'm so used to hearing it every day, and now I only hear it a few times a week. Hold on a sec, let me grab April." I heard some rustling and my dad should "April!" before he was back on the phone. "So, how are you? How's Montana been?"

"It's been okay. Really cold," I added with a laugh. "Thanks for the money, by the way. I went shopping today and got a bunch of clothes so I won't be freezing everywhere I go."

There was another click as Aunt April got on the phone. "Rachie!" she practically shouted, forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear for a few seconds until she calmed down.

"Jeez, April. Are you trying to make me go prematurely deaf?" my dad asked.

"Sorry, sorry," April said. "I'm just so excited to hear her voice! I haven't spoken to her since she left. How have you been, baby doll?"

"I'm doing fine," I promised. "Really. I even made a friend."

"Quinn," April said. "I know, I read your emails. I mean, _how have you been?_ "

"Oh," I said quietly. "Okay. It's been hard without you guys around. But Jesse and Will and Emma have been really nice. Emma's even been making vegan meals for me so I adjust better. She still hasn't given me back the door to my room, though."

"She's just worried about you, honey," my dad replied. "We all are."

"I know. I'm sorry for putting you guys through that. That wasn't fair for me to do."

"Honey, don't apologize," my dad said sternly. "I just wish you felt you could have come to me or your aunt instead of doing what you did. You know, if you still feel like talking, we're always here for you."

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, feeling more guilty. I put my dad through hell, and he still was worrying about me. Yet, instead of opening up to him or my aunt, I kept shutting them out and kept them in the dark. It wasn't fair of me to do that, but I knew I still wasn't ready to tell them the truth.

"I know, Dad," I said. "I'll remember that."

"So, anything fun planned for this week?" Aunt April asked eagerly.

"Meh, not really. I have therapy and group. Quinn invited me to a party on Friday at one of the other group member's houses, but I doubt I'm going to go."

"What? Why not?" Dad asked.

"It's just not my scene. I'm not a party kind of girl."

"Rachel, it's the only way you're going to make more friends," my dad reasoned. "I wanted you to go and spend some time with your mom so you wouldn't spend all day in your room or on the couch. I think you should go to that party, and I'm sure your therapist would agree with me."

I sighed, knowing he was right. "Fine, I'll go if you do one thing for me?"

"Anything," he said.

"Stop calling Emma my mom."

"But sweetheart, she's your mother even if you don't want her to be."

"I know that, but can you not call her mom to me? As far as I'm concerned, she's just Emma."

My dad sighed, obviously trying to decide if the argument over this was worth me not going to the party. "Fine," he finally said. "I'll call her Emma. Happy?"

"Very," I said with a smile on my face. "Okay Dad, I should probably get going. I wanted to write in my journal before turning in for the night. I love you both a lot. I'll call again soon, I promise."

"Okay honey. Have a good night. We love you."

"Love you, Rach!" Aunt April said. There were two clicks before I ended the call, setting the phone on my bed. I stared out at the window, contemplating the party again. I really didn't want to go, but my dad was right. I was never going to meet anyone else besides Quinn unless I opened myself up. Besides, how bad could a party with a bunch of headcases be?

And so, here I am. I've been writing for the past hour but I really need to get to bed. I should check my phone one last time before I go to sleep.

Of course Quinn texted me. She can't go more than two seconds without talking to me. She wants to get breakfast in the morning. She said she'd come pick me up, plus it's less time I have to spend with the Schuesters.

I read the text from the unknown number from earlier today and a cold shiver went through my body.

 _Just wanted you to know I was thinking of you xo_

Underneath that was a picture of me. My hair is disheveled and my tights are ripped. The makeup on my face is smeared and the skirt from my dress is pulled up, exposing my underwear. I am also clearly unconscious.

There's only one person who would send me this.

 _Brody._


	4. January 15th

_January 15th, 1 am_

After reading the text message from Brody, I sat on my bed for what felt like hours, all of the blood drained from my body. Brody was someone I had cut out of my life after cutting my wrists. He was the reason I had tried to take my life.

Brody was someone I met during the short period of time I was a college student. I met him one night at a party I was attending with my roommate. Santana had been casually dating a frat brother over at NYU, so we ended up at one of their parties. She'd been off doing god know's what with him, and I was left sitting on the couch by myself, listening to bad music and watching young girls preparing to make bad decisions with guys they didn't know.

Brody had walked over to me, clearly trying to talk me into his bed. Me, being a young, innocent little virgin, put him in his place. I thought he'd move on to some other girl, but he ended up spending the rest of the night sitting and talking with me. I thought he wanted to be my friend.

How wrong I was.

Brody invited Santana, my best friend Kurt, and I to the frat's Halloween party, which we were all excited about. Santana and I spent weeks picking out our costumes. I had never been allowed to dress up as anything sexy back in Miami, but I wanted to look good for my first college Halloween party.

Santana ended up going as a sexy nurse in a costume that looked more like lingerie than anything else. I went as an angel, something Santana said suited me perfectly as I was as innocent and pure as an angel.

As soon as we walked in the door, Santana and Kurt both ditched me. Santana went to get a drink and find her boyfriend, while Kurt went over to find the guy from his class who he was in love with who promised he'd be at the party.

That left me once again with Brody. I'd been at multiple parties with Brody before, and we always spent the night sitting and talking. I never drank, and he didn't bother trying to hit on me because he knew I wasn't interested. That night he got me a soda (no alcohol for me) and we went to take our typical spot on the couch.

After about 30 minutes, I started feeling a little dizzy. I asked him if there was anywhere quiet we could go so I could relax for a few minutes without the music blaring in my ears. He said all the rooms would be in use now, but the basement would be empty.

I wish I had just gone home instead.

He led me down the basement, where three other frat brothers were waiting. The rest of the night is a blur. I remember waking up the next morning on a mattress in the basement of the frat house, my underwear nowhere to be found. The one strap of my dress was torn, and the halo I had been wearing the night before was bent and missing feathers.

Brody was nowhere to be found, and I knew I didn't want to see him. I was sore, like I had just run a marathon, and I felt sick. I grabbed my shoes and quietly made my way up the stairs to the main floor of the frat house. No one was there, thankfully, and I exited through the front door without any incident.

After struggling to hail a cab, I found the nearest subway station and took that back instead. I was missing my cell phone and had no idea what had happened to it. I knew what happened at the party, but I didn't want to believe it.

Santana wasn't home when I got there, which I was thankful for. I didn't want questions about where I had been or why I was just getting in now. Instead, I took a shower and broke down in tears when I saw the trail of blood on my inner thigh.

I spent most of the next week in bed as I tried to piece together that night, begging myself to remember what happened. But, as hard as I tried, I couldn't. I couldn't even remember the other three guys who had been waiting for me down in the basement.

I wouldn't talk to Santana, Kurt, or anyone else who tried. I just stayed in bed, sleeping. I think I would have been okay, if Brody hadn't emailed me the video.

About a week after the party, I got an email from Brody that had a link in it. Stupidly, I clicked on it. I only watched a few minutes before I shut my computer off. The video was of me on the mattress in the basement. The video explained why I had no underwear on that morning.

I tried killing myself that night.

I kept my eyes closed as the images from that night flooded my head. I tried everything to put that night behind me. Dr. Sue asks me about my reasons for doing what I did in therapy every session, but I can't tell her. I can't even admit to myself what really happened, because once I admit it that means it's real.

I quickly shut my phone off and threw it in my purse, not wanting to see Brody's name lit up on the screen anymore. Maybe if I ignored it, he'd leave me alone. At least I hoped so. I didn't know what he could possibly want with me now after all these months, and I knew I wasn't ready to find out.

It took me awhile to fall asleep that night, and I worried I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming like I did in the beginning. But somehow, I managed to get a few hours of sleep, which wasn't easy when Brody's smug face kept creeping into my head.

Sunday morning, I woke up with a splitting headache and a feeling as though I hadn't gotten any sleep. Sunday was cleaning day at the Schuester household, so despite having bags under my eyes, I was assigned bathroom cleaning as my chore for the day. It wasn't too bad, honestly. I put my headphones in, listened to my music, and cleaned. It helped keep all thoughts about Brody out of my mind, which was proving very difficult after his text.

Quinn and I traded texts throughout the day, chatting about how our days were going. She was hanging out with her sister all day, taking down all their Christmas decorations.

After I was finished cleaning, Emma was kind enough to let me go up to my room for awhile until dinner was ready, for which I was grateful. I walked into the room and looked around, debating what to do. I looked at the ancient computer on my desk and powered it up. If anything, I could watch Netflix on there for the rest of the day.

I had warmed up to Whitefish, but I was incredibly bored there most of the time. Back in Miami and New York, I had a whole group of friends I used to go out and do things with. I also had a dance studio I would go to and just spend all day practicing. I think if there was a dance studio here, it would be better. But there wasn't, so I was left to sitting in my room all day when Quinn was busy.

I knew I needed to find other friends beside her, but I wasn't ready to open up to anyone else.

I browsed around on my computer for awhile before navigating to Facebook, looking at the log-in screen. I had told Quinn I just decided I didn't want to use Facebook anymore, but of course that was a small lie.

After I was discharged from the hospital and went back to Miami, I made the mistake of logging onto Facebook one day to see what everyone from school was doing. That had been a mistake.

Instead of statuses and pictures from friends, I found my inbox to be full, all messages from Brody. He claimed he was just "checking in to see how I was doing", but I knew that was a lie. He wanted to see what I remembered from that night. Just seeing his name and picture on my computer screen was enough to cause me to completely break down.

After another short hospital stay in Miami, I decided staying in contact with college acquaintances wasn't worth the risk of having Brody send me messages daily, so I deleted my Facebook.

I hadn't even missed it to be perfectly honest. Facebook had always been a waste of my time, to be perfectly honest. I was never on it much to start with, and now I didn't have to see pictures of my old friends having a blast at college while I was stuck at home being babysat by my father.

With a sigh, I logged back in, reactivating my Facebook. I was only doing this for Quinn if I was being truthful with myself. Since I hadn't had my profile active in months, I didn't have any notifications (thankfully). I looked at my profile picture, a frown on my face. It was a picture of me with my roommate, Santana. Kurt had taken it of us the night of the party, both of us grinning in our costumes.

I turned away, not wanting to look at it any longer. I didn't want to remember that night as long as I lived, which was so hard to do when everything was reminding me of it. I quickly changed the picture to an old one of me from high school. It had been taken the spring of my senior year right after the senior talent show (which Kurt and I won). I was standing with my dad and Aunt April, a huge smile on my face.

I stared at the picture, wishing I could go back to that time. My life was simpler then. I had friends, a family who trusted me, and my whole life ahead of me. I was going to my dream school where I was going to follow my dream so I could become a famous dancer.

Unfortunately, none of that had worked out. I was trapped in a boring town living with family I couldn't stand, and I didn't even have dance to take my mind off it.

I searched Quinn's name on Facebook and easily found her page, especially since Jesse was a mutual friend of ours on the site. Her page was private so all I could see was her picture. She was sitting outside somewhere that looked very warm next to an older blonde woman who looked a lot like her. That must be her sister. Both of them were smiling and looking generally happy.

Quinn always appeared to be so happy and full of life. She hadn't really told me why she was in our group (though I hadn't revealed everything to her, either). She just didn't seem like the type of person who needed to be in a group like ours.

I clicked the request button before navigating back to the home page of Facebook, browsing through the new updates from my old friends. A few people were posting pictures from vacations they were on, another was announcing her new relationship with someone.

Kurt's name popped up. He had posted a new album of him and Santana in Miami, enjoying their winter break from school. I instantly felt a sense of guilt. Kurt and Santana had been my best friends from the time we were in elementary school. We were all neighbors, and naturally became friends overtime. Plus, it helped that we were all into the theatrical arts. Kurt's passion was acting, while Santana's was singing.

We had never gone a single day without talking to one another, yet I was too afraid to pick up my phone and even send them a text to let them know I was at least okay. They probably thought I hated them.

I didn't.

I missed them terribly. I wanted to reach out, to tell them everything, but I couldn't. I wasn't ready to do that yet. So I just scrolled past the pictures, not wanting to see them enjoying life without me. I wondered if they had even asked my dad about me. Probably not.

Sunday night dinner was pretty uneventful. Jesse sulked at the table like usual, and Emma tried to draw me into conversation without any luck. She mentioned how much she had liked Quinn. I just gave her a slight nod. I knew Emma was trying to develop a relationship with me, but I didn't want the same. I just wanted her to leave me alone.

After dinner, Emma thankfully let me go upstairs to my room instead of forcing me to watch some silly movie with her and Will. I used the time to listen to my iPod, lying on my bed as I continued to trade texts with Quinn. She seemed really excited about the party on Friday. I couldn't say I really shared in her enthusiasm, but I tried not to let that show.

Eventually, I fell asleep after promising Quinn I would call her after my therapy session so we could do something.

Monday meant I got to meet with Dr. Sue again. If I was smart, I would have shared with her my worries about Brody texting me after all this time. I hadn't bothered to respond to him (why would I?) but I was concerned about him suddenly trying to get into my life. What could he possibly want from me now? I hadn't told a single person about what had happened. Did he think I was going to open my mouth now? Or had he heard about my suicide attempt.

Brody's text was making it very difficult for me to sleep because his face kept appearing in my mind. Clearly, I needed to talk to someone, I just knew that person wasn't Dr. Sue.

Like usual, I spent our entire session in silence. Dr. Sue had stopped trying to pressure me into saying something. She always started the session saying we would talk about what I wanted to. Since I had no desire to talk about anything with her, we spent the hour in silence. Af the end, she stated she would see me again on Wednesday, and I left her office.

I knew I was wasting my dad's money by not actually using the therapy sessions with Dr. Sue, but I wasn't ready to talk about anything, especially not with a stranger.

Jesse was sitting in the waiting area when I walked out, typing something on his phone. He looked up when I approached him, a smile on his face. "Ready?" he asked.

I nodded my head, and we made our way back to the car. I climbed in the passenger side as Jesse turned the engine over and the truck roared to life. I stared out the window for the entire ride back to Whitefish, not saying a word. Jesse eventually turned onto our street, pulling the car into the driveway.

Quinn ended up having to help her sister and husband out with something all day, meaning I was left to myself. With nothing else to do, I finished _Oliver Twist_ by dinner time. After eating, I decided to give my dad and Aunt April another call. Unfortunately, they weren't home, leaving me once again to spend the time by myself.

Not ready to start another book, I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. All this alone time was making me realize I needed to find at least a few other friends besides Quinn. I couldn't expect her to spend every waking minute hanging out with or texting me.

There was a knock and I turned to look at my empty doorframe. Jesse was standing there, a glass of water in his hand.

"You okay?" he asked, his left eyebrow arched. "You look a little bored."

I sat up, nodding my head at him. Jesse took a seat on the bed next to me. "I guess I am. I went from living in a city to...living here," I admitted. "It's hard to go from somewhere that's been my home to a place where I know no one."

"I thought you were friends with Quinn."

"I am, but that's it. When you only have one friend, you're kind of screwed when they're busy," I sighed. "I think I'd be okay if Whitefish at least had a dance studio, but apparently you guys are lacking."

"Dance studio?" Jesse asked. "Why would you care if there was a dance studio here?"

I rolled my eyes at him. Jesse and I were practically family, yet we barely knew anything about one another. He didn't know anything about my love for dance, and I honestly had no idea what he liked to do. I made a promise to myself to start getting to know Jesse better. He was they only kind of sibling I had, after all.

"Dance has always been my life," I explained. "My dad had me in dance lessons for almost my entire life. When I was in school in New York, that's what I was studying. It was amazing, all of my classes took place in a dane studio. It was my version of heaven, really."

"So why'd you go all crazy and try to off yourself, then?" Jesse asked. I flinched at his wording. I knew he wasn't trying to be cruel, but his words hurt.

"Something bad happened, and I wasn't in heaven anymore," I said quietly, my voice indicating that the conversation was over.

"Oh," Jesse said, letting the conversation fall flat. "Well, we might not have a dance studio, but we do have the annual Founder's Day ball."

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's a whole weekend to celebrate the founding of Whitefish. It's in April every year. There's a huge carnival and a ball with lots of dancing. Everyone in town goes. Maybe you could show off your dancing there."

I smiled at Jesse. "Yeah, maybe."

"Well, I should head to bed. Night, Rachel." Jesse paused for a moment before leaning over and giving me an awkward hug. I watched him walk out of the room before falling back onto my bed, starring at the ceiling once again.

I ended up picking up some kind of stomach virus and, thankfully, was allowed to skip both the pointless support group and therapy with Dr. Sue for the next few days. I probably could have gone, but Emma was also trying to improve our relationship. She let me take over the living room, watching whatever I wanted on TV even though Daddy had given her strict orders not to let me do anything like that.

Emma even took off work, driving all the way to Kalispell to get me a bread bowl from Panera Bread. Maybe she wasn't half bad.

We spent all of Tuesday Wednesday, and Thursday alternating between _My 600lb Life_ , _Say Yes to the Dress_ , and _90 Day Fiancee,_ all on TLC. It turns out, I got my reality show addiction from Emma. Back in Miami, I would have to go over to Kurt's house to watch _The Bachelor_ since Daddy and Aunt April both agreed it was the epitome of trash TV. By Thursday afternoon, Emma and I were comparing our favorite shows with one another. Maybe she wasn't as bad as she seemed.

Friday, since I was feeling better, I was allowed to go back to both Dr. Sue and group.

The appointment with Dr. Sue was a waste of time, as usual. I think it's irritating her that I don't talk to her. When I walk into her office, she has a look on her face that I guess is a cross between annoyance and frustration. I know she can't help me if I don't talk, but I don't want or need help from someone like her.

After the appointment, Jesse dropped me off at group, turning the radio down as I climbed out of his truck.

"So, what time do you want me to pick you up?" he asked.

I shook my head. "You don't need to pick me up today. I'm going to a party at one of the other group member's houses after, Quinn said she'd give me a ride there and back home tonight. Emma already knows," I promised.

"Yeah yeah," Jesse said with a laugh. "Have fun, okay? And tell Quinn I said hello." With that, I shut the car door and Jesse drove away.

I turned and walked into the church, finding the room almost full with most of the group members. I recognized almost all the faces, yet I couldn't recall anyone's name except for Quinn's. She had saved me a seat next to her and waved at me when I walked in.

I took a seat next to her, pulling my jacket off before putting my bag on the ground between my feet. Since Quinn had insisted we go to this party after group, I decided to dress up a little. I had on a pair of skinny jeans with a few tears in them, paired with a pink lace blouse. I decided to forgo the snow boots and went with a pair of tan UGGs instead. They may not have been waterproof, but they were comfy and warm.

Artie wheeled in about thirty seconds after I sat down. "Hey gang, good to see you all again. Rachel!" he said, smiling at me. "Good to see you again. I was afraid we'd scared you away when I didn't see you on Tuesday."

I shook my head, a small smile on my face. It was nice to know they'd actually noticed I wasn't there. "No, I just had a little stomach bug and doubted everyone here wanted it as well."

Artie laughed. "Fair enough. Well, we're glad to have you back." He turned, facing the group. "So, why don't we dive right in where we left off. Quinn, you were telling us about your PTSD and how it's changed your life."

Quinn nodded her head. "Yeah, like I was saying before, my parents realized something was wrong with me my sophomore year of high school. They thought I was doing okay, but that was because I kept everything hidden from them. I had lost all my friends by that point, but as far as they knew, I was spending every Friday night at my best friend Lucy's house. Instead, I was going to the park and spending all night there instead. At first I just went to have somewhere to go without having my parents watching every move I made. Then I met Corey. He was a senior who practically lived at the park, and after seeing me hanging out there for a few weeks, he starting sharing some of his pot with me. It helped me calm down enough that I was able to act normal around everyone.

"Turns out, Corey was a dealer, and soon he was _my_ dealer. At first, it was just smoking pot in the park to take the edge off. Then, I started buying Ambien to help me sleep at night. Eventually, I was snorting lines of cocaine in the bathroom at school in between classes just to get through the day, and sleeping with Corey at night to afford the habit I couldn't admit I had. I was so strung out all the time. My grades were suffering and I spent all my time either with Corey at the park or hanging out with the other junkies while I was at school. The worst part was, the whole reason I started using was to help cope with my PTSD, but the drugs were just making it worse. I could barely make it through the day without freaking out over nothing.

"I was on a fast track to an early grave. If I continued the way I was going, I was going to overdose. Thankfully, however, I got busted. Some cop pulled me over and found a few ounces of pot on me. He arrested me, and that seemed to wake everyone in my family up. My parents, amazingly, didn't kick me out. Instead, they pulled me out of school and got me the help I needed. They enrolled me in therapy, after I completed an inpatient drug rehab and detox program. They also realized I had more problems than just using drugs. I finally got the help I really needed, and I've been managing my PTSD great ever since."

Everyone, including me, applauded as she finished her story. She didn't go into what had caused her PTSD, and that was something she still had yet to share with me. However, to be fair, I hadn't shared what caused my suicide attempt with her, either.

"It always helps to have a support system when you're struggling," Artie said as he nodded his head.

"It did help to have them there supporting me," Quinn agreed. "Without them, I shudder to think what would have happened to me. Anyways, they moved to Missoula last year, after making sure I was going to be okay without them, of course. Plus, the fact that I was going to move in with my sister helped reassure them as well. I think they just wanted to make sure someone would be watching me in case I was temped to relapse. Which I haven't been," she added quickly.

"That's excellent to hear, Quinn," Artie said, and the group applauded again, me joining them. It was interesting hearing Quinn's story, and I hoped one day I would have her courage and be able to share my story with everyone here in group. After all, they were the people probably least likely to judge me.

"Does anyone have anything to add to that?" Artie asked after a few moments. Mike put his hand up and Artie nodded his head in Mike's direction. "Mike?"

"I totally get the whole self-medicating thing. I used to be a big supporter of that, as everyone here knows." There were a few chuckles at his response. "But I understand what you mean about having a support system and how important that is. I could have never gotten clean on my own, because I couldn't even admit I had a problem. Without my cousin, I guarantee I'd be dead from all the drugs I was putting into my body."

"Thank you for that, Mike," Artie said, looking around the group. "Anyone else?"

Everyone stayed silent, all of our eyes on Artie as he kept looking around the group.

"Okay then, let's move on. Since we brought up a support system, who wants to talk about their support system or lack of one?"

I thought about what Artie was saying, about having a support system. He was right about the importance of having at least one person there to support you. After all, without my dad, my aunt, and even Emma, I wouldn't have been sitting there listening to everyone share their stories. I wouldn't be going to a party after group. I wouldn't be sitting in a therapist's office and refusing to speak three times a week.

I looked across the group and saw Brittany Pierce, the other new girl during my first group, raise her hand.

"Brittany!" Artie called as his eyes lit up a little.

"I lost my whole support system after I was diagnosed. It sucks, in case anyone was wondering. Imagine being diagnosed with a life-changing disease that will eventually kill you, and having no one there to help you out. Then, on top of that, losing your job, your healthcare, essentially your whole life. I had to go through all of that alone. I had my grandmother at first, but after she died, I was left with no one. Then, on top of all that, moving somewhere new where you don't know a single person. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy."

Everyone was silent after Brittany's story. No one really knew how to respond to what she had said. I may have felt like I was alone after I tried killing myself, but the truth was I wasn't. My dad desperately tried to help, I just didn't want it. He did everything he could to get me help, including sending me to Montana to stay with Emma. I may not have liked his decision, but he thought it was what was best for me and my health. And, if I was being honest with myself, he was right.

I tentatively put a hand in the air. Artie arched an eyebrow at me and nodded his head. "Yes, Rachel?"

I glanced around for a moment and realized I had the complete attention of everyone in the group. Quinn was looking at me with her head cocked curiously to the side, and even the asshole Puck who had yelled at me last time appeared to be paying attention. I couldn't blame them for being curious, it was my first time speaking in group, after all.

"I think a support group or even a support person is important to have. They're the one person looking out for your best interests, even if you don't agree with the actions they take. After I tried killing myself, my dad pulled me out of school and moved me back home. He tried to get me to talk to him but I wouldn't let him in. He tried to get me to go to therapy and I refused to go. He tried everything he could to help me, but I just kept pushing him away. So he sent me here to live with Emma because he knew it was the only way I was going to get the help I needed." I took a deep breath and told myself not to cry in front of everyone. "I said some really mean things about him when he made me leave Miami, but I've come to realize it was the best thing he could have done for me. For the first time, I'm actually getting help."

Quinn smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.

"Well, getting help is always important. Is there anything else you'd like to add, Rachel?" Artie asked, giving me a piercing look. Both he and Dr. Sue were very clear that the only way I would truly get any kind of help was if I let people in and told them the whole story. But I wasn't ready for that, not yet.

I shook my head. "Not today, Artie."

Artie nodded his head, understanding what I wasn't saying aloud. He moved on, talking more about support systems. He focused back on Brittany and said that she may not feel as though she has a support system, but the group could be just that for her.

Artie ended the group session with a reminder that if anyone ever felt as if they needed help and had no one to talk to, he was always available to talk to without ay kind of judgment. I made a mental note to ask Artie for help only if I had literally nowhere else to turn.

Quinn walked over to me and hooked her arm into mine. "Look at that, you managed to talk for almost 30 seconds," she teased, leading me away from the group and towards the parking lot. "It's progress," she added. "Soon you'll be sharing stories that last a full minute." She laughed as she pushed open the doors and we were outside in the cold once again.

"So, do I really have to go to this party?" I asked, wondering if there was still some way I could get out of this. I had moved on to a new book and would have much preferred to spend the night at home reading that instead of sitting by myself at a stranger's house watching everyone else have fun. It was giving me anxiety just thinking about being at a party.

"Yes, you promised!" Quinn said, unlocking the door to her car. We both climbed in as she turned the engine over and the car roared to life. She turned the heat on full blast as we idled in the parking lot, waiting for the inside of the car to warm up a bit before driving away. "Besides, it's going to be fun. It's not your typical party of people getting drunk and hooking up. We don't have any alcohol for obvious reasons. We just eat junk food and watch movies. Puck said this week he was planning on doing a Marvel marathon."

"You didn't say it was at that jerk Puck's place," I groaned, dreading going even more. For some reason, he didn't like me, and I wasn't about to force myself to be in his company any more than necessary.

"Puck's not that bad," Quinn reasoned as she backed the truck out of her spot and headed down he road. "Besides, he asked me to invite you."

"He did?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah," she said. "He said he wanted you to feel welcome. I think he felt bad about jumping down your throat after your first group. We're all just a big group of friends, Rach. We want you to be one of our friends, too. I know Mike invited Brittany, but she said she was busy. I think she just didn't want to come. You heard her, she has no friends or family. She can't have any real plans."

I shrugged my shoulders and stared out the window. The text from Brody had made me want to go to this party even less. What if something bad happened here like it did at the frat party? I looked over at Quinn and wanted to tell her how anxious I was feeling, how afraid I was, but I couldn't. I just couldn't open up and let her in, not yet.

Quinn turned the truck down a road and pulled into a short driveway. She put the truck into park and turned the engine off before turning to me. "You ready?" she asked.

I gave her a weak smile. "As ready as I'm going to be, I guess. Let's just get this over with," I half-joked. I pushed the car door open and climbed out of the cab of the truck and back into the cold Montana air. A chilly gust of wind blew through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine.

Quinn and I crunched through the melting snow up the driveway of Puck's house. I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to work up the nerve to walk inside and interact with a group of people who I had nothing in common with besides having a completely fucked up life.

The door opened before we even reached the landing and Puck was there, his he'd turned to the left as he yelled back into the house. "And if you add _Iron Man 3_ to the list I'm removing you as my best friend!" He turned and came to a quick stop when he saw Quinn and I standing on the front porch. "Q!" he said, throwing an arm around Quinn and pulling her into a tight hug. "Glad to see you. Excellent share today," he said, letting her go and stepping back. "Miami, glad you could make it," he said quickly. "Well, mi casa es su casa. Come on in, ladies. Mike's setting out the food. Merci and Sugar are in the living room fighting over what Marvel flick we're going to start the marathon with."

Puck gave us a nod before heading into the kitchen, yelling at Mike again.

I turned to Quinn, feeling very out of place. "I don't know if I can do this, Quinn. I told you before, parties really aren't my scene."

"And I told you, Rach, this isn't your typical party. You heard Puck, we're going to eat some snacks and watch a bunch of Marvel movies. No booze, no drugs, no bad decisions. I promise."

Reluctantly, I followed her into the house and made my way into the living room. Two girls from group, Mercedes Jones and Sugar Motta, were sitting on the floor, arguing over who was the hottest actor in the Marvel universe.

"Chris Evans, for sure," Sugar said determinately.

"Girl, are you crazy? Chris Hemsworth has him beat by a mile."

"How can you say no to Captain America?"

"Thor would kick his tiny ass," Mercedes said as the two girls started laughing.

"Hey girls," Quinn said, flopping onto one of the couches.

"Q!" they both said, grinning up at Quinn. I stayed standing in the doorway, still feeling as though I didn't belong. Quinn was really the only person I knew from group. I still hadn't learned everyone's names yet.

"Oh hey, this is Rachel," Quinn said, beckoning me over. I quietly walked over and took a seat next to Quinn, smiling at the other two girls. "Rachel, this is Mercedes and Sugar."

Sugar looked to be in her early twenties. She was petite with light brown hair and a tan complexion. Her hair was straight and fell halfway down her back with streaks of red intermixed with the brown. She had her makeup done in a way that enhanced her natural features without making her look like she had too much caked on her face. She had a pair of jeans on with a simple long-sleeved white shirt. Like everyone in Montana, she had a pair of boots on her feet. She was beautiful except for the long, raised scar she had on the left side of her face. It stared at the corner of her eye and ran all the way down her face and neck. Unfortunately, it was her most noticeable feature.

Mercedes looked as though she was only a year or two older than I was. She was a heavy-set black girl with short, curly hair. She was wearing no makeup and had her hair pulled back with a blue hairband. She was wearing leggings underneath a yellow dress with short, black boots on her feet. She gave me a warm smile and a quick wave. "Nice to meet you, Rachel. Glad to have a new member to our group of outcasts."

"Outcasts?" I asked.

"Oh sure," Sugar added. "We're not exactly the most welcome people here in Whitefish. Why do you think we have these parties every week?" I tried looking away, but my eyes seemed to keep going back to the scar on her face. I knew it was rude to stare, but I just couldn't help it. To my surprise, Sugar smiled at me. "It's okay, you can ask about my scar," she said.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it, everyone stares. How can they not, right? This lovely facial feature is courtesy of my father. I got knocked up when I was sixteen, and his solution to that problem was to try and kill me. He's in jail for that, and the rest of my family hasn't spoken to me since he was sentenced. Mercedes, Quinn, and the rest of these guys are my family now," she said. My face softened as she finished her story. "But really, don't feel sorry for me. They're the best family anyone could ask for."

"And now you're part of that family, Rachel," Quinn added with a smile.

The front door opened and a few other people I briefly recognized by sight emerged from the cold and into the small foyer of Puck's house. There was a tall guy with dreadlocks who had his arm linked with a petite blonde and a tall, heavyset guy who followed closely behind. There didn't seem to be anyone else coming, because Puck locked the for after they were inside.

The three who had just entered took off their coats before joining us all in the living room. After about thirty seconds, Mike and Puck walked in, their arms filled with snacks. "Okay, as was decided last week, we're doing a Marvel marathon tonight." His response was met with a few cheers and one boo. Puck looked over at the blonde who had recently walked in and rolled his eyes. "You were outvoted last time, Kitty, so suck it up. As the hosts, Mike and I have decided on starting with the original Marvel movie, _Iron Man_.

"As per usual, water and sodas are in the fridge, bathrooms are down the hall, and everyone enjoy themselves."

The lights were shut off as the TV turned on and the movie started.

I had never seen a single Marvel movie in my life and I wasn't really all that excited about spending all night watching superhero movies. I debated texting Jesse and asking him to pick me up but my thoughts were interrupted when the weight on the couch shifted and I saw Puck had taken a seat next to me.

I glanced over at him and was shocked to see he was looking at me, and that he had a smile on his face. "Rachel, right?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "From Miami?"

"Why?" I whispered back. "Come to yell at me about something else?"

Puck let out a sigh. "I admit it, I deserved that. I was a jerk to you last time, and I'm sorry. It was totally uncalled for. What do you say we start over?" He extended his hand towards me. I looked at him for a few seconds before, reluctantly, I reached out and took his hand. "Hi, I'm Noah Puckerman but please don't call me Noah. I go by Puck. I'm 22, single, and a college drop out. When I was nineteen, my brother and his girlfriend successfully completed a suicide pact, and I've been completely fucked up ever since."

"It's nice to meet you, Noah," I said, giving him a defiant look. I didn't care if he wanted to be called Puck, I was going to call him Noah.

"You know, normally I would kick someone's ass for calling me that," he joked, giving me another smile. "Well, what about you?"

I thought about his question for a moment before I answered. "I'm Rachel Berry, 18-years-old and also a college drop out. I grew up with a single dad in Miami and I miss him terribly. A few months ago I tried ending my life and it kills me every day that I didn't succeed," I whispered, my voice breaking at the end.

Puck frowned a little at my statement. "That shouldn't make you unhappy. You should want to be alive. You have so much to live for, Rachel."

I gave him an annoyed look. Who was he to lecture me, to make assumptions about how good my life was? He had no idea what I'd been through, what I'd survived. He didn't have the images of that night burned into his mind, he didn't wake up screaming for two months straight from nightmares. He'd never been so desperate to escape everything that he'd run a razor across his wrists to stop the pain.

"Wait, I'm sorry," he said, looking at my expression. "I had no right to say that. You obviously don't feel that way. I don't know what you've been through and what brought you to that point. I have a problem with assuming things. And anger," he admitted. "But, if you're struggling, talking about it in..."

"If another person tells me talking about my feelings and letting people in is going to help, I'm going to lose my mind," I snapped, causing the guy in the dreadlocks to shush me. "Sorry," I whispered. "This really isn't the right place to talk, you know," I said, hoping he'd get the hint and leave me alone.

Puck pursed his lips and seemed to think it over before falling silent and turning his attention to the movie.

It wasn't that I disliked Puck. I didn't know him, and had no desire to start anytime soon. My experience with guys was limited, and after everything that happened in New York with Brody, I was not anxious to gain any more experience. I had Quinn, I didn't need any other friends.

But that wasn't entirely true. Back in Miami I had two best friends named Kurt Hummel and Santana Lopez. We were all in the same second-grade class, and had been friends ever since. We stayed friends through high school and made a pact that we would all go to college in the same city, which is how I ended up in New York City. I missed having a close group of friends.

Out of the corner of my eye, I kept glancing over at Puck during the movie. He didn't seem to be giving me a second thought and appeared to be completely engrossed in the movie. I thought over his suggestion of talking about my problems.

I definitely was not about to talk about things with Dr. Sue. As far as I was concerned, she was the enemy. And I knew I wasn't ready to talk about my whole ordeal in group, especially when most of the people there were still strangers to me.

But a friend, maybe one day I could talk about it with them.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't realize we had already finished one movie and moved on to the next. Quinn nudged my leg and pointed at the clock, indicating that it was almost ten at night.

Emma was going to kill me.

I nodded at her and rose to my feet, heading towards the door to grab my shoes and coat. Puck followed behind us while everyone else was busy watching the movie.

"You guys have to leave?" he asked, a note of disappointment in his voice.

"If I don't leave now, Emma's going to send out a search party for me. She still hasn't gotten around to trusting me too much," I said with a shrug. "Strict curfew and all that jazz. Thanks for having me though. This was fun, I guess."

Quinn rolled her eyes at me. "Nice, Rachel," she said sarcastically. "I had a great time as always, Puck," she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a hug.

Puck turned to me and I instinctively pulled away, not wanting any man to get that close to me. He looked over me, not quite sure what to make of me or my apparent rudeness. "I hope you come back, Rachel. We could all be your friends if you would just let us. And, again, I'm sorry about earlier." He handed me a torn piece of paper with messy writing on it. "I meant what I said before about talking about things. Even if you're not ready to open up in group, I'm always here if you need a friend."

"Thanks," I murmured, giving him a quick wave before Quinn and I walked out the door and into the cold. Quinn unlocked her truck and the two of us headed back to my house. If I was being honest with myself, I actually had fun at Puck's house. It had been a long time since I'd been around other people my age in a social setting without someone watching my every move.

Quinn dropped me off at home and promised to call me the next day. Thankfully, everyone was already asleep when I got inside, which meant Emma wasn't awake to yell at me for being out late. Hopefully, she'd be so happy that I was out making friends that she wouldn't be mad about me being out late.

I looked at the slip of paper Puck had given me as I settled into bed. I promised myself I would call him...only if I had no one else there to talk to.


End file.
